


The Long Game

by thedailygrind



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 08:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21268202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedailygrind/pseuds/thedailygrind
Summary: Almost by design, Jaejoong and Changmin reconnect.Inspired by Changmin's adulting skills on "I Live Alone".





	The Long Game

Yunho is the one Jaejoong’s always pined for. Like the beautiful promise of puppy love, even as they outgrow each other, Jaejoong can’t bear to let go.

They meet when they’re sixteen; Jaejoong an unpolished rocker with a chip on his shoulder and Yunho, torn up with guilt for turning down a university scholarship in favor of playing back up dancer on low budget music videos.

They fit because they're two broken pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, edges jagged and wanting. It's almost predictable how they gravitate to each other, nursing bleeding wounds and bonding over the desperate, faint hope that one day this sacrifice will be worth it; five boys on a global stage, the world at their feet.

It's the beginning of the end because the more publicity they get, the more they grow apart. The silent faultlines of their relationship forced apart by the weight of expectations - the company's, the fans', their own. Jaejoong shuts his mouth, carefully calculates his words and tries not to take up too much space. Remembers to keep his jealousy in check. Remembers not to ask for more than Yunho’s willing to give. Remembers to put his complaints aside so the crease between Yunho’s eyebrows always stays smooth. Because these days their love is a ticking time bomb, and Jaejoong doesn't want to be the match that blows this fragile balance to smithereens.

He starts by hiding away the bits of himself that don’t fit in Yunho’s smooth, rosy world. It's little things at first - and it happens so gradually, so quietly that one day he stands in front of a mirror, brunette hair short and curled delicately around his ear, a dance-pop medley shoved into his hand, and doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

The day the lawsuit finally cuts them loose (JYJ now, no longer TVXQ), Jaejoong feels like he remembers how to breathe.

Yunho’s absence from his life is a knife through the chest. Bloody, violent and unending. Some days he gets home from work and doesn't have the energy to do anything but lie on the floor, miserable and empty, wondering if there will come a day where finding himself will be worth the pain of losing Yunho.

It takes years, innumerable bottles of soju and sixty three tragic love songs, but then the ache subsides, enough that he sees the faint sunlight peeking through at the end of the tunnel.

For the first time in years, Jaejoong looks in the mirror, and sees, not the splintered hero Yunho had wanted him to be, but someone loud, scatter-brained, imperfect but _real_. It’s enough, so that when it becomes clear that this new version of Jaejoong has no place in Yunho's life, his tears taste more like the salty sting of freedom than the bitter taste of regret.

_ _

_ _

On a sunny day just after Jaejoong's confirmed the track list for his debut Japanese cover album and recorded his first genuinely happy love song in years -- he runs into Changmin at a supermarket in Dongdaemun. It's been long enough for the bitter feelings to have faded, but short enough that seeing Changmin again in the flesh still brings up that familiar prickle of affection that comes from years of living out of someone's pocket.

Jaejoong is so busy staring and Changmin is so busy trying to wrestle something off the pickle shelf, they slam unceremoniously into each other, sending canned tomatoes and pickled kimchi flying.

They spend five minutes gaping stupidly at each other, before Changmin breaks the silence with a surprised, “Jaejoong _hyung._” 

The formality slides a little too easily off his tongue and Jaejoong has to resist the urge to ask him to say it again. He manages a weak, “what are you doing here?”

"Making dinner," Changmin says and lifts his shopping cart to reveal a mess of vegetables and red meat.

“Can’t I come?” Jaejoong asks in a moment of impulsiveness, because he’s missed him, missed _them_. And when they had fallen apart all those years ago he’d never have guessed the story would end with Yoochun in jail and Junsu perpetually on tour and Yunho sending every one of his calls to voicemail.

Changmin hesitates, but he doesn’t say no either and Jaejoong has always been an opportunist, so he grabs the younger man by his large woolen scarf, frog marches him to the cashier, pays for all of their groceries (including the sad dented cans of tomatoes) and follows a bemused Changmin home.

_ _

_ _

Changmin’s flat is a modern minimalistic thing, equipped with an elevator that greets him by name as he presses the number to his floor, and lights that flicker on automatically as Jaejoong loses his footing and almost trips head first over the threshold.

"Careful," Changmin says, catching him by the arm, and the momentum sends Jaejoong stumbling backward into his broad, muscled chest. For a moment, their bodies pressed so close together they could almost be one. Jaejoong feels the thudding pulse of Changmin's heartbeat against his own, steady and comforting but then Changmin rights them both and the moment is over.

“I’ll cook,” Changmin says quickly, making a beeline to the tidy open-concept kitchen, “why don’t you watch some TV—“

He trails off, frowning at Jaejoong who is glued to the smart home system, alternating between lifting and shuttering the window blinds, a look of childish wonder on his face.

“Just behave,” Changmin finishes, with a fond sort of exasperation, “and don't touch anything.”

Changmin cooks with the intensity and purpose that made him the successful singer he is today. Jaejoong discreetly watches him expertly break down a rack of lamb, his biceps straining against his shirt with the effort, and tries not to think about how Changmin does… other things.

Changmin catches him staring, and for a long moment, their eyes meet. And it feels like Jaejoong is meeting him all over again, _really_ meeting him this time, no longer the sulky teen he remembers, but an adult_,_ whip-smart and put together and ridiculously capable.

He wants to say something gushy and embarrassing but almost as if he senses it first, Changmin drops his gaze and turns to focus on the onions with a grim sort of determination.

Still, Jaejoong doesn’t think its his imagination that he sees a flush of pink color his cheeks.

For dinner, Changmin uncorks a bottle of wine, it’s an excellent vintage, and it’s an excellent meal, and the conversation flows because Jaejoong loves wine and food and Jaejoong when excited, drunk or nervous is a Jaejoong that won't shut up.

Changmin laughs, makes snarky comments in all the right places, and refills their wine glasses when they empty.

Jaejoong is enjoying his company so much he can't help glancing at the clock, feeling the lump of anxiety in his chest grow as the meal ends, sooner than he'd like. 

They finish but Changmin doesn’t get up, doesn’t say anything, really, so Jaejoong starts panic-cleaning their emptied plates, fleeing to the safety of the kitchen before Changmin can protest and tell Jaejoong to leave.

Jaejoong really, _really_ doesn't want to have to wait another five years to surprise-ambush Changmin into another dinner invitation.

Changmin comes into the kitchen a few minutes later, ostensibly to check if Jaejoong and/or his kitchen are still intact, and so it is precisely at this moment that Jaejoong's hand slips and an alarming amount of soap explodes onto the dirty dishes, foaming furiously under the rush of the tap and overflowing Changmin's sink with frothy bubbles.

“Hyung—“ Changmin begins, and Jaejoong sees the onset of a thunderstorm coming and thinks, _oh, what the hell_ and seizes the opportunity to mischievously flick a soap bubble at his face.

“Yah,” Changmin yells, gripping Jaejoong’s wrist, “you little—“

He charges.

And suddenly Jaejoong remembers why he gave up on play-fighting with Changmin because now he's backed up against the sink, laughing so hard his stomach hurts, Changmin glaring and covered in white foam like he's the abominable snowman.

Changmin takes one look at him and starts laughing too because he feels ridiculous with white soapy bubbles dripping from his fringe, and after his retaliation, the entire kitchen is soaked.

Changmin's mouth is twisted into a mismatched smile, which Jaejoong knows means that he's amused, but also conflicted about something. And Jaejoong is enjoying this moment of normalcy too much - his first in eight years since they disbanded -- to give him another moment to think, just in case Changmin realizes what a stupid situation this is, and how he’s survived so long without Jaejoong it isn’t worth the pain and mental anguish of trying to reintegrate him back into his life—

Changmin looks at him, chocolate eyes warm and still amused and Jaejoong realizes how close their faces are, how Changmin's wet t-shirt clings attractively to all the right curves and planes of his chest, how solid and firm Changmin’s body feels, pressed against his own.

“I seriously can't leave you alone," Changmin says, wryly.

Jaejoong's heart stutters at the unintended double entendre.

"So, don't." Jaejoong says, and does the only intelligent thing he can think of.

He pulls him close and kisses him.

There’s a beat, where Jaejoong’s not sure if Changmin's going to push him away or punch him--

But then Changmin just laughs, a surprised huff against his mouth, and then he kisses back with aching hunger, his fingers curving in Jaejoong’s neck, pulling him close like he never wants to let go.

Changmin fucks with a quiet intensity that takes Jaejoong’s breath away, watching Jaejoong with dark hungry eyes as his clever fingers wring moans from his body until Jaejoong is clawing the sheets, toes curled and so so turned on he can’t think.

“You left us,” Changmin says later. Quietly, an accusation.

He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head.

And Jaejoong thinks he looks godly like this, his muscles illuminated in the moonlight.

They’re sprawled naked on Changmin’s large bed, close enough to touch. Jaejoong closes the distance between them, leaning over Changmin’s prone form to cup his chin, tilting his face toward him. 

“I didn't want to," he whispers, with aching honesty, because Changmin deserves the truth, "if I could have done this any other way, I would've. You know that, right?"

Changmin shifts, uncomfortably, his eyes dart away to Jaejoong’s mouth, to his eyes, to his mouth again.

"Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Changmin breathes, guiltily.

“I know,” Jaejoong says and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I am too.”

Neither of them raises the topic but by wordless agreement Jaejoong finds himself moving in to Changmin’s apartment, because Changmin had taken one look at Jaejoong’s creepy — “It’s art!” Jaejoong had protested — plate collection and turned around and walked out.

The Changmin Jaejoong falls in love with is assertive, confident and strong in the way he never was with four hyungs sitting on top of him.

Independence looks good on him, Jaejoong thinks as Changmin bossily sets down the ground rules about whites and colors on laundry day, the best way to store uncooked potatoes and berates Jaejoong’s anarchic approach to cooking.

Unlike Yunho, Changmin is unapologetically clear about what he wants, what he’ll accept and invites Jaejoong to be the same. They might both be stubborn but Changmin also knows when to compromise, when to placate, when to back down, when to love.

At night, he pins Jaejoong to his navy comforter and kisses the breath out of him. As Jaejoong runs his hands down the broad expanse of Changmin’s back, he thinks, he could never tire of waking up to Changmin’s hands, warm and callused on his body, for the rest of his life.

It hits him as he scrapes the kimchi fried rice off the pan into two perfectly equal portions, complete with a salad garnish on the side, because he'd never hear the end of Changmin's healthy eating lecture otherwise, that he can't remember how to cook for one. Possibly because he hasn't done it in months, maybe years now.

Jaejoong wonders how and when Changmin lured him into a comfortable permanent cohabitation situation without him even noticing.

Changmin has his favorite vintage records stored on the highest shelf in the apartment, citing ‘safekeeping’. It's no coincidence that he is also the only one tall enough to pull them out. Changmin coordinates their laundry, schedules their personal trainer and syncs their schedules to Jaejoong’s Samsung so he never misses an important meeting or their weekly dinner date. Changmin makes dinner and quotes his favorite philosophy books to Jaejoong and holds his hand when they go grocery shopping—

And Jaejoong would be utterly lost without him.

“Yah!” Jaejoong says storming out of the kitchen, a pink apron haphazardly wrapped around his waist, kimchi juice staining his hands, "are we boyfriends now?”

Changmin’s sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper, his legs casually crossed like he’s posing for GQ, and Jaejoong thinks he looks so handsome it physically hurts to look at him.

"It was just a matter of time before you came around,” he says and casually flips a page, “you don’t think I’d let just anyone steal my first kiss do you?”


End file.
